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rHEROlGNE DE IWCODRT 



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1^ lUmante, 



IN FIYE PARTS, 



BY 



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EEES 



PART I. 



WTI.I.IS P. HAZARD 

ITS OHKS^TIT STREEÏ. 



THEROIGNE DE MERICOUKT; 



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IN FIVE PARTS, 



BT 



LOUIS S. D. REES 



PART I. 



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WILLIS P. HAZAHD 

178 CHESNUT STREET. 






Entered, according to Act of Gongress, in the year 1855, by 

LOUIS S. D. REES, 

in the Office of the Clerk of the District Court of the United States, in 

and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 



îNQtJIREE BOOK PEESS, 57 SOUTH THIBD STREET, PHILABELPHIA. 



To Alphonse de Lamartine — 

The traveller, poet, orator, historian; — ^whose 
holy éloquence in the hour of revolutionary ex- 
citement did more for the good of humanity and the 
honor of his country, than even the varied and 
beautiful productions of his pen hâve done for his 
own literary fame^ — this First Part of a Romance, 
the idea of which was suggested by a perusal of the 
"Histoire des Girondins," is most respectfully 
inscribed by his obedient servant and sincère 
admirer, 

The Author. 



>i 



TO THE PUBLIC. 

The favorable opinions expressed by bis friends^ 
bave emboldened tbe autbor of tbe foUowing lines to 
submit tbem to tbe public eje. He does so with 
considérable hésitation; not only because he appré- 
ciâtes tbe difficulties of tbe task he bas undertaken 
in attempting to write a romance, but also because 
he is aware that there is a gênerai indisposition on 
tbe part of tbe reading world, to give attention to 
any thing that cornes to it in a metrical form. He 
invokes, however, a patient perusal and a candid 
judgment, if not for bis own sake, y et at least for 
tbe sake of her whom he bas chosen to be the sub- 
ject of bis song, — Théroigne de Méricourt, one of 
the most beautiful, the most gifted, and the most 
ill-fated of women. 



153 Chesnut Street, March 2nd, 1855, 



THEROIGNE DE MERICOURT. 

A ROMANCE. 



PART I. 

Hark ! what cry of wild despair 
Rudely wakes the slumbering air? 
See î what spectral figure stands ; 
Stretches forth its witkered haiids; 
Lays its throbbing bosom bare ; 
Tears its long and streaming hair; 
Upward glanées to the sky; 
Downward turns its flashing eye; 
Loudly laughs with causeless giee; 
Weeps at fancied misery ? 

No décent robe of pride and taste 
Is girdled round that fragile waist; 
No gem-set gold or braided twist 
Encompasses that siender wrist; 
Nor sparkles on her hand the ring, 
Whose magie circle still might bring 
Back to the soûl ail fresh and warm, 
Some lost but not forgotten form; — 



6 



But squalid raiment, coarse and mean, 
Where many a gaping rent is seen^ 
Too oft to wanton eye betra3^s 
Charms never meant for idle gaze ; 
While the rough cord and rattling chain, 
Her movements' wild excess restrain. 

But list! she speaks; — and Oh! sucli words 
Of horror, that (like reeking swords, 
Which, stained with gouttes of human gore, 
Still gleam as if they asked for more,) 
They seem to corne from one whose liand 
Hath done the deeds a fiend had plann'd. 

*' Oif with his head ! Away 1" she cries ; — 
**No mercy hère! — the traiter dies! 
'^Blood, blood we'll hâve, to quench our thirst 
^'For vengeance on the race accurst, — 
" Those proud aristocrats, whose reign, 
'•'MiUions had mourned, but mourned in vain. 
"Raise the tall scafFold to the skyî 
^^'Twere sweet to see our tyrants die. — 
"Ha! ha! bethink thee of the day 
"When, lured from home and peace away, 
"I left — What! shrink ye back, vile race? 
" Cowards ! away ! Give woman place ! 
" And let her wield the avenging knife ! 
"And let her head the glorious strife! — 
"Oh! spare me, spare me!" yet she cries: 
"Notnow! nothere! before allej^es! 



''Bury me in some dungeon deep; 
*^ Or hmi nie down the craggy steep ; 
'^ Or cast me to the raging flame ; 
"But do not — Ha ! to see my shame 
" Thou too hast left thy silent grave ! 
^^ Or art thou corne thy child to save ? 
" Scourge me ? it cannot, shall not be : — 
" See, see ! my bonds are burst, — l'm free !"• 

Poor maniac wretch ! 'tis Death alone 
Shall free thee from those walls of stone; 
Those iron bars; that clanking chain; 
That worse than any real pain ; — 
Those fancied tortures of the mind, 
The dires t that afflict mankind. 

Alas ! can madness thus efface 

Each beauteous trait, each winning grâce ; 

And sink the sacred human form 

Beneath the level of the worm? 

Ah ! I hâve seen the new-born charms 

Of infants in their mothers' arms, 

Just waking from a sweet repose, 

Disfigured by convulsive throes : — 

l've seen Consumption^s hand of steaith 

Plant lilies on the brow of health, 

And draw the shadows of the tomb 

Athwart youth's bright and sunny bloom :— 

l've seen, beneath Contagion's power, 

The loveliest form, like some fair flower, 



8 



Smitten with such a fearfui bliglit, 
That Pitj sickened at the sight : — 
l've seen the ashes of the dead 
Thrown festering from their lowly bed, 
And left exjDOsed to common view 
As if to show what Death can do : — 
But ail was mercy, beauty ail, 
Compared with what men Madness call;- — 
That makes the intellectual sight 
Imjoervious save to Hell's own light; — 
That shuts the intellectual ear 
Save to the damnings of despair; — 
That prompts the virgin's lip to speak 
Words so debased, that to the cheek 
Of common wantons there would rush, 
While uttering them, the burning blush; — 
That sways its sceptre of control 
Where tyrants cannot — o'er the soûl; — 
And makes a thing of human birth 
A very démon upon earth. 

God ! if for records on my page 

Of early youth or later âge ; — 

Records of crimes against thy law — 

Thy hand the avenging sword must draw; 

Oh ! let its stroke remorseless fall 

On health, wealth, freedom, life; — yea, ail 

Yet, in my sorrow's darkest hour, 

Let Reason still retain its power; 

Nor quench that last celestial ray, 

Till in death's shades I pass away ! 



9 



But turn we froni this dreary sight 
To view a scène where ail is bright; 
Where thoughtless youth and sober âge 
Alike in rustic sports engage ; 
And, turning from their toils away, 
Join in a gênerai boliday : 
While Yirtue can without a frown 
Upon the merry group look down; 
And e'en Religion smiles to see 
Their pure unsullied revelry. 

There are spots in création wbich Nature's own hand 
Would seem in her happiest moods to hâve plann'd ; 
Or some potent magician, with mystical spell, 
To hâve raised as a home where a Péri might dwell : 
So radiantly bright, or so calmly serene ; 
So free from ail shadows to darken the scène ; 
That 'tis hard to believe the deep wrinkle of care 
Can furrow the brows of the favored ones there ; 
Or the terrible phantoms of sickness and death 
Pollute the fair place with their pestilent breath. 

Perchance 'tis some mansion of opulent ease 
Half hid from the view by embosoming trees; 
Placed high on the brow of a verdure-clad hill, 
As a monument reared to its architect's skill : 
Not vulgarly tricked out, for gaudy display, 
With pillars of plaster, and coatings of clay; 
But simple yet noble, as best might become, 
Not the splendor of state, but the comfort of home. 



10 

In front a broad meadow, where browse or reciine 
The favorite horse, and the well-fatted kine, 
The innocent lamb, and the matronly ewe, — 
Just enough to give quiet repose to the view : 
More near a choie e garden^ from whose spicy bowers 
Exhales the sweet odor of thousands of flowers, 
Where, hke faithless adorers, the butterfly gay 
Just sips of their sweetness, then flutters away. 

Pefchance 'tis some castle, whose battlements rise 
As if conscious of strength, till they threaten the 

skies ; 
While its deep-laid foundations, embracing the rock, 
Hâve stood, and shall stand, of long âges the shock. 
Around, rugged steeps, which the goat cannot climb, 
Stand as bulwarks against the encroachments of 

Time. 
Far below foams a torrent, whose waters now flash 
'Neath the blaze of the sun ; now mysteriously dash 
Through the gloom of ravines, from whence issues 

alone 
The deep roar of its waves, or the rock's holîow 

groan ; 
While the landscape beyond wears an aspect so soft, 
So unlike the huge relie which towers aloft, 
That it seems like an infant laid prostrate in prayer 
At the feet of the giant who frowns on it there. 

Perchance 'tis some valley where, hid from mankind^ 
A few tranquil spirits their paradise find; 



11 

Wlio, sick of the world, with its bitter and sweet, 
Hâve souglit refuge from ail in this welcome retreat. 

But ail tliat elsewhere boasts of grandeur or grâce, 
Met in one to embellish the beautiful place, 
Whose innocent revehy gladdens our eye 
As we turn with alarin from the maniac's cry. 
See the castle, which still, in défiance of Time, 
Stands as firm in its âge as it stood in its prime; 
Though the festival pomp and the feudal array 
Which it witnessed of old hâve long since passed 

away. 
See the mansion, whose lordly possessor combines 
The wealth that commands with the taste that 

refines : — 
And there, far below, in that beautiful vale, 
See the homes where repose and contentment 

prevail; 
Where no one can boast of broad acres he owns, 
And no one unpitied in misery groans ; 
Where the milk of their flocks, or the fruit of their 

fields 
To each, without luxury, compétence yields; 
And if there, as elsewhere, bread is purchased by 

toil, 
Yet the labor bestowed on a generous soil 
But renders more welcome the calm eventide, 
When, sitting at ease by his own fireside, 
Or reclining outstretched 'neath the sun's western 

ray, 
With his "gudewife" at hand and his children at 

play. 



12 

The poorest man feels a warm glow at his heart, 
Such as wealth wlth its splendors can ne ver impart; 
And looking towards heaven he gratefully sings, 
^^'Tis the Good God above us who gives thèse good 
things." * 

It was not in that sea-girt isle, 
Where Liberty with radiant smile 

Shines equally on ail; 
While Commerce with a bounteous hand 
Spreads plenty o'er the favored land, 

Obedient to her call : — 

It was not in this western sphère 
Where Nature's giant forms appear 

In cataract, tree, or plain; 
While mighty floods impetuous sweep, 
Now broad as seas, and now as deep, 

Down to the circling main : — 

It was not in that sunny land 

Whence Dante's pen and Raphael's hand 

Electrified the world; 
Whence R-ome, the mistress of mankind, 
Through every clime, to every wind, 

Her conquering flag unfurled : — 

It was in thee, thou lovely France/ 
Land of the festive song and dance, 
Foremost on history's page ; 

* " Deus nobis hsec otia fecit/' 



13 



Where still new scènes of wonder rise 
To take the nations by surprise, 
As âge succeeds to âge ! 

Oh ! who tliat treads thy princely halls, 
And views upon their gorgeous walls 

The records of thy famé ; 
Or sees thy columns, mounting high 
And pointing upward to the sky, 

Inscribed with many a name : — 

Who that recalls the noble men 
Potent to wield the sword or pen, ' 

To conquer or to save; 
Who hailed thee as their land of birtli, 
And found in thee their bed of earth, 

Their cradle and their grave : — 

Who that reniembers that thy land 
Was rescued once by woman's hand 

From fierce invading foes ; 
And cowering 'neath the hated yoke, 
At her command its fetters broke 

And in its strength uprose : — 

Who that bethinks him of the man 

Whose mighty mind alike could span \ 

The little and the great; 

Could keep a conquered world in awe, 

Construct a road, reform a law, 

Or renovate a state : — 
2 



u 

Who that to ail thèse marvek turn^^ 
Can wonder at the pride that burns 

Within each son of thine, 
As, counting o'er thy countless charms, 
Thy deeds in arts, thy deeds in arnis^ 

He cries, ^^ This land is mine ?" 

Nor let me pass unheeded by 
That kind mivarying com'tesy 

Which every stranger meets, 
Who moves thy higher walks among, 
Or mingles with the meaner throng 

That traverses thy streets. 

Oh ! it hath been my lot to roaml 
Far from my country and my home 

"With desolated heart^ 
And still thy gentle, kindly smile 
Could soothe my grief, my cares beguile, 

And peace and hope impart. 

But wherefore to-day Ail this festive array, ] 
Wherein rich and poor equally share ? 

What lends a new grâce To the child's merry face, 
And smooths the rough forehead of Gare ? 

Why floats o'er the hall And the old castle wall 
The banner so gorgeous and brightj] 

While each cottage is seen Decked with garlands 
ofgreen, 
To betoken its owner's delight ?^< 



15 



What wakes tlie glad notes Whose sweet liarmony 
floats 

Froni y on churcli o'er the scène far and near ? 
And why does the song Of the peasant prolong 

The sweet sound as it falls on his ear ? 

Why groans the full board With each luxury stored^ 
Where the lord and his tenantry join? 

And why does the glass So incessantly pass \ 
With its bumpers of gênerons wine ? 

Is it Yictory's voice Bids the rustics rejoice 
O'er their country's success in the field ? 

Or the last sheaf of corn From the harvesting 
borne 
At the close of a plentiful yield ? 

No ; the vale and hill-top With the ungathered crop 
Still shine as with giMing o'erspread ; 

And the revelry hère Is unstained by the tear 
Which the widow and orphan hâve shed, 

Little they know w^ho sit, and gaze 
With eager eyes upon the blaze 
Of glaring light and gaudy hue 
With which the drama courts their vîew : 
Who see now lamp-lit suns arise, 
Now clouds bedeck the canvas skies; 
Now the tall ship, whose outspread sails 
Are swelled by artificial gales; 



16 



Now the cool grot^ or woodland shade^ 
As if in taunting mockery made 
Of that o'ercrowded human mass 
Who hail the wonders as they pass :- — 
Little they know how dark and drear 
Yiewed from behind those scènes appear, 
Where nought but dust and cobwebs hide 
The vile reverse of ail that pride : = 

Little they know who raise the shoufc 
That greets the player, strutting ont 
To act his part with mimic skill 
Obedient to another's will, 
And weep or laugh, grieve or rejoice 
According to the prompter's voice : — 
Little that gaping crowd can tell 
What real joys his bosom swell -, 
Or Avhat unfeigned distress and pain 
May wring his heart; and lire his brain l 

And hâve not bards in every âge 
Told us " this life is but a stage ;" 
And each man, at his best estate^ 
An actor in the scènes of fa te ? 
Who wears a smile, who drops a tear 
Obedient to a heart sincère ? 
Where is the man that does not throw 
A mantle o'er his weal and woe^ 
And deck him with a borrowed plume 
Ere he step forth to rave and fame^ 



17 



And tread the boards of life's wide stage, 

The amusement of a passing âge ? 

And when, despite the busy plaj, ] 

We steal at intervais away, 

And hide us in lone solitudes 

Where no unwelcome eye intrudes; 

Is it not there, and there alone, 

We truly smile, and truly groan? 

And when Beath lets the curtain fal! j 

On play, and players, scènes^ and ail. 

Do we not then first lay aside 

The counterfeitin^ garfe of pride, 

And stand before our Maker's eye 

In beauty or deformity ? 

Yes, 'tis an universal truth, — 

In hoary âge, in sprightly y outh ;- — - 

Deep sunk in vice, by virtue raised; — 

Courted or shunned, reviled or prais^d; — 

Though scanned by mamy a curions eye, 

Unknown we live, unknown we die, 

Eehold yon mansion's noble lord ! 
With ample wealfch his chest is stored; 
His barn, his granary abounds 
With the rich produce of his grounds; 
The scutcheon of his ancient race 
No treason s tains, no crimes debase ; 
And he as proudly lifts his head 
As any of the ancestral dead. 
The world applaud his happy state, 
Envy a man so rich and great, 
2* 



18 

Nor doubt that he, at least, is freé ' 
From the sad entail; — misery ! 

Had not they seen him bow his head 

In drooping anguisli o'er that bed, 

Where, racked with pain and fell disease, 

His son, bis only son he sees ? 

Had they not seen him wipe away 

With trembling hand the dropg that lay 

Upon that brow so still and fair, 

Like tears which Death himself shed there? 

Had they not seen, as, hour by hour, 

Faded that beauteous fragile flower, 

The father's features gathered gloom 

From the dark shado ws of the tomb ? 

And, when the agonising gasp 

Told of Death's latest, firmest grasp ; 

When, not like one who courts repose, 

But tossing Avild with fearful throes. 

And uttering shrieks at each new pang 

Whose echoes through the mansion rang, — 

When thus, to the worst form of death, 

The boy had yielded up his breath, 

Had they not seen him torn away, 

Still clinging to the lifeless clay ; 

And heard the accents of despair 

Which told his ail had perished there ? 

Yes, the sad story of his woe 

Has caused fuU many a tear to flow; 



19 



And gossips love to tell the taie 

When winter's evening shades prevail, 

And prove an unacknowledged joy 

To find that wealth has its alloy, 

And e'en the lordly and the great 

Must share the universal fate : — 

"But time/' the unthinking world would say, 

"Long time since then has passed away; 

"And time can minister relief 

"To soûls most bowed by weight of grief." 

True ; the deep wound upon his heart 

Did lose its pungency of smart : 

True; he could join the manly sport, 

Fréquent new scènes, appear at court : 

Yet, when among gay revellers found, 

While glass and goblet passed around, 

And the loud laugh and jovial song 

Strove which should most the mirth prolong ; 

Then would there oft unbidden rise 

Hot scalding tears and deep-drawn sighs, 

As some unlooked for, trivial thing 

Waked the vibrations of that string, 

Whose deeply melancholy tone 

Breathed but one thought, — "My son, my son!" 

But away, away with desponding care, 

With this pale-faced grief, and wan despair î 

Lo, Mercy descends to earth again; 

And with her Hope's gay and laughing train ! 

And see how she bears with encircling arm 

A babe whose beauty grim Death might charm 1 



20 



And again, with that well-remembered joy,, 
The father embraces an infant boy^, 
Whose sunny smile, by no shadow crossed^ 
Can more than replace the idol lost, 

Then spread ye the banque t's ample store ! 
Spread it for rich, and spread it for poor ! 
Bid the young and old^ with merry heart, 
Hasten to bear in the feast their part ! 
Nor fear ye though Midnight stoop to hear 
Your song of joy and your hearty cheer. 

This day we consecrate to Heaven 

The blessing so benignly given. 

This day we house him in the ark ; 

This day we seal him with the mark 

Worn by the "sacramental host/' — 

The proud world's scorn, the good man's boast 

Well then may heaven itself rejoice ! 

Well may the earth lift up her voice ! 

Well may the Church aloud proclaim 

^^ The second birth/' " the Christian name." 

But see yon modest dwelling, dressed 
With care and skill beyond the rest; 
As if its inmates strove to show 
A more than sympathetic glow 
Within their happy bosoms burned, 
For blessings which themselves concerned. 
Its quiet aspect, placed between 
The proudly great and poorly mean, 



21 



Tells not indeed of gorgeous wealth, '] 
But of peace, compétence, and health. 
The close eut liedge, the gay parterre. 
No mercenary hand déclare. — 
The orchard's promising increase, 
The dog reclining at his ease, 
The bird that struts his life away, 
Proud his gay plumage to display 5 — 
Ail, ail proclaim that easy state 
Envied alike by small and great, 
That golden mediocrity, 
From pining as from surfeit free. 

Within that home of peace réside' 
A lover and his happy bride ; 
So closely knit in love's own bond, 
So free from every thought beyond, 
That but one spirit seems to dwell 
In both their frames, one magie spell 
With mystic influence to control 
Each thought and feeling of each soûl. 

Perchance, indeed, to one who knew 

To search man s nature through and through, 

There might appear upon his side 

Too much of that stern manly pride, 

That walks the earth with stately tread 

And lifts sublime to heaven its head, 

As if, in conscience of its worth, 

It scorned the meaner things of earth : — 

That feels no pity for the price 

Which, soon or late, men pay for vice 5 



22 

That joys, as Mercy doth, to bless, 
And weeps at innocent distress; 
But cannot, like that angel, stoop 
To lift a prostrate sinner up.-^ 

Perchance her soûl too feebly hung 
Upon his strength; too closely clung ; 
For safe ty to his sheltering arm, 
On danger 's most remote alarm. 
It seemed as if the self-same blow 
That struck at hini must lay her low; 
As if even God Himself she feared, 
Chiefly hecause he too revered. 
Yet blâme them not; 'twas but the excess 
Of virtue dimmed their loveliness ; 
And e'en the sun is said to show 
Some dark spots 'midst his burning glow. 

Not yet twelve months had roUed away 
Since dawned the mémorable day 
That placed the bridegroom by the side 
Of his own chosen^ cherished bride, 
When neighbors crowded round to see 
The first sweet smile of infancy, 
And on the unconscious lips to press 
The gentle kiss of tenderness. 

Poor fragile flower ! they little knew 
Who o'er it bent their earnest view, 
What gathering tempests would arise 
In after years to cloud its skies j 



23 



Till the wild fury of the storm 

Burst on its frail and shrinking form. — - 

'Twas on the day, wlien first with joy 
Yon proud lord liad embraced his boy, 
That first his humbler tenant prest 
An infant daughter to his breast; 
And willed that lord that the same hour 
Should see each consecrated flower 
Transferred from nature's barren waste, 
Andj by the rite baptismal, placed 
Within the Church's hallowed bounds, — ■ 
Those fertile, sheltered, happy grounds, — - 
Where each young tree of Paradis e 
Blooms ère transplanted to the skies. 

Ye who would contemplate a sight 

Which angels gaze on with delight,] 

And more than angels from above 

Deign to rejoice in and approve; — 

Look on that consecrated place ! 

Look on that minister of grâce ! 

Look on that pure baptismal stream 

Ail radiant with a kindly beam 

From Mercy's own benignant eyes, 

As wide she opens Paradise ! 

Look on those infants, for whose fate 

Heaven, Earth, and Hell expectant wait ! — 

Angels — to guard their course through life, 

And shield them 'mid its dreadful strife : 



24 



Or waft tliem swift from eartli away 
To régions of unclouded day. 
Parents — whose every hope, and fear, 
And joy, and grief are centred there: 
Démons — to blast their opening blooni 
With sin's dark stain, and Hell's deep gloom; 
To make tlieir ruined sonls a ourse, 
A plague-spot in the universe, 
Till God, in mercy to the race, 
Bid Death the danining blot efface. 

Oh ! if we welcome with applaiise 

The man who in a righteous cause 

Seizes on sword, and spear, and shield, 

And rushes to the battle-field, 

Careless though 'mid the heaps of slain 

His own unburied corpse remain : — 

If with dehght we view the maid, 

Now first in nuptial garb arrayed, 

Who speaks the irrévocable word 

That gives her to her bosom's lord : — 

Say, shall not equal praise be given 

To him who wields the sword of heaven; 

And by the sacred sign he bears 

Upon his brow true fealty swears 

In life, in death, through gain, through loss, 

To him who triumphed on the cross ? — 

Say, shall not equal joys arise 

For soûls new-wedded to the skie«, 

Who spotless as the robes they wear, 

In virgin innocence appear, 



25 



To be presented to their lord, 

The Churcli's husband^ — and lier God ! 

But ah ! what prescient eye can scan 
The distant future of the man, 
On whose unconscious bahy brow 
The sacred drops are falling now ? 
Shall the wide world resound his famé? 
Or écho with his guilt and shame? 
Or shall he, like some drifting bark, 
Float o'er life's sea, nor leave one mark, 
One single furrow on the wave 
Betwixt his baptism and his grave ? 

Perchance that little rosy lip 
In after years may fondly sip 
The cup of pleasurable sin, 
And, with it, drink damnation in. 
Perchance that tiny hand we see 
Eeebly stretched ont towards vacancy, 
May one day grasp the reeking blade 
With human slaughter crimson made, 
And fling the devastating brand 
O'er many a fair and smiUng land. ^ 
That voice, now uttering fretful cries, 
In burning éloquence may rise 
To thrill a nation with its tone, 
Or hurl a monarch from his throne : 
Or (dreadful thought!) may utter loud, 
'Midst impious foUy's laughing crowd, • 
3 



26 

The bold défiance 'gainst High Heaven, 
Nor breathe one prayer to be forgiven. 
That infant form may rise to wear 
A weigM of glory even hère :— 
Amid its génération stand 
Diffiising blessings round the land ; 
Chase^ like the glorious orb of day, 
The mists of sin and grief away. 
And cause the admiring world to see 
How bright a Christian's course may be; 
By bad men feared, by good men loved, 
By conscience and by God approved: — 
May^ after death, still higher rise, 
There, there, where angels walk the skies; 
And view with unbeclouded sight 
The effulgence of the Eternal Light. 

That infant form may prostrate lie 
In sloth, in vice, in infamy ; 
Spread, with its pestilential breath, 
That worst of plagues, a moral death ; — 
Be praised by none, by none be loved, 
By conscience hourly be reproved; 
Feel in its inmost soûl the dread 
Of vengeance falling on its head; 
And sink at iast (how darkly deepî) 
Down, down for ever; still to weep. 
Long as the weary âges roll, 
The ruin of a deathless soûl. — 

^ ^ ^ :iî ^ iii Hîîjî 



27 

The rites performed, with serions thouglit imprest, 

Sober, not sad, returns each. welcoine guest 

To share tlie bounties of liis generous lord. 

And meet around bis bospitable board. 

AU crown the gobletj the sweet nectar qnafT, 

Sing the glad song, and raise tbe cheerful laugh ; 

Then join the dance^ and, to the varie d sonnd 

Of string and pipe, tread the fantastic round ; 

Not anxions for display, but onlj bent 

To give expression to their hearts' content ; — 

And some, 'tis said, whose dancing days were o'er, 

On this occasion danced again once more. 

Light was each foot, and ^parkled every eye, 

Swift flew the merry hours unheeded by, 

Till, as the village clock, with solemn tone, 

Warned that another fleeting day was gone, 

Back to the banquet-haU the guests repair, 

Once more its hospitalities to share. 

The banquet o'er, uprose the man of Ood, 

And spread his suppliant hands to heaven abroad, 

And, with a voice of dignity and love, 

InvQked on ail a blessing from above, 

Just then, a stranger through the portai slowly en- 

tered, 
On whose gaunt form the eyes of each with awe 

were centered. 
In gloomy contrast with this scène of chastened 

gladness, 
Her every look and feature wore a hue of sadness. 



28 

The crimson stream of life hact lost its power {o 

redden 
Her hollow cheek; her eye was lustreless and 

leaden. 
Onward slie moved^ and seemed it that slie little 

heeded 
How eacli, witli look of fear as she advanced^ re- 

ceded. 
Onward she moved until she stood beside the 

father, 
The mansion's noble lord, then seemed her sonl to 

gather 
New fervency of passion, and new stern décision; 
And thus she spake, and, speaking, smiled as in 
dérision : — 
'' Happy man ! While you can, 

Revel in your joy ; 
Still caress And fondly press 

Your pretty baby boy ! 
Wretched man ! Could you scan 

Dark futurity, 
You would say, ' Woe worth the day 

Gave that boy to me ! ' 
Love how great! Deadly hâte ! 

Both their forms I see. — 
' Spare my life ! ' — ' Nay, whet the knife ; 
Vengeance calls for thee.' " 

Onward she moved, nor stayed until she stood 
Beside that other father; while his blood 
Grew cold within his veins, and paled his cheek 
As waited he the words she yet might speak. 



29 

But see how changed a form she bears ! 
Mark how her eyes are filled with tears ! 
And list, with what a plaintive moan 
She chants thèse words in softened tone : — 

" There was a flower In Beauty's bower^ 

Lovely in form and hué ; 
Now dimly seen Through foliage green, 

Now hidden from the view. 
In evil hour About that flower 

A wily serpent coiled, 
Whose poisonous breath With taint of death 

Its virgin beauties soiled. — 

"I saw from far A twinkling star 

Beam in the evening sky ; 
Whose timid light, So meekly bright^ 

Shrunk from the gazing eye. 
There came a cloud With gloom to enshroud 

That unobtrusive ray; 
And, quenched in night, The modest light 

Passed from the scène away. — 

^^ guard from harms Those opening charms, 

So transient and so dear; 
For storms will rise In summer skies, 

And there's a serpent near ! " — 

Onward she moved to the grave priest; and, by him 

standing, 
Said, with an attitude and tone of voice coni- 

manding, 



30 

As felt slie tliat prophétie words to her were given, 
And that she too coiild claim authority from 
heaven: — 

'^ Stretched tliere a sea AU brilliantly ; 

I stood upon its sliore ; 
And as I stood It turned to blood^ 

Deep crimson human gore. 

"And forth tliere came, In lurid flame, 

The hideous form of Dex^th ; 
With visage thin, And ghastl}^ grin, 

And hot devouring Tbreath. 

" Then spake the Dead Thèse words of dread 

In deep sepulchral tone ; — 
' The hour is corne, The hoiir of doom, 

The hour that's ail mine own. 

"^A feast m hâve In the silent grave, 

Such as the world ne'er saw; 
And the rich and great In the Church and State 

To mj slaughterhouse l'il draw. 

^^ ^ See my table spread With the mighty dead. 

And with young and lusty forms I 
And a crowned king Shall his carcass bring 

To the banquet of the worms. 

^^ ^ See a woman's hand Uplift the brand 
That kindles the murderous strife I 



31 

And^ lo, at her word Tliey mislieathe tlie sword^ 
And whet the avenging knife ! 

"^But^ ha ! slie slirinks, And lier riglit arm sinks 

As thougli paralysed its force : — 
Who, who could scare Thee, my priestess faii^ 

And arrest thy glorious course ? 

" ^ Seize the recréant ! hind her fast ! 

Shrond her soûl in midnight gloom ! 
Then, when twice ten years are passed; 

Fling her to the tonib ! ' — 

"With the lightning's flash. And the thunder's 
crash. 

And the ravings of the storm. 
And a denion s howl, And a darkening scowl, 

Down went that spectral form." — 

The feastis o'er; the lights are ont; 
Hushed is the laugh, the song, the shout; 
The guests are parted, none remain 
Of ail that gay, that startled train : — 
But few, I ween, their eyes could close 
That night in undisturbed repose : 
For if, outworn, awhile they slept, 
Soon dreadful visions o'er them crept, 
'Of grinning skulls, and seas of blood, 
And spectral forms that round them stood; 



o 



2 



And starting from their sleep, they cry, 
" Save us^ Grod^ the doom is nigh !" 

And there were two, who vainly strove 
The burden from their hearts to move 
Of lialf allowed, half scouted dread^ 
There lying like a weight of lead. 
And chief the man who fondly prest 
The infant Théroigne to his Ibreast, 
And heard, still echoing to his thonghty 
Thèse words with fear and caution fraught;— 

" guard from harms Those opening charms^ 

So transient and so dear; 
For storms will rise In sunimer skies^ 

And there's a serpent near ! " 



END OF PART I. 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 




016 165 741 4 i 



